The Price of Happiness
by MissSteph22
Summary: Despite his lack of education, he wasn't stupid. He knew what kind of situation they were in. They were poor. He's determined to find the remedy for their misery, but what if happiness wasn't gained through money? Perhaps it is something else entirely that gets them through the night. Oneshot based on the poor timeline from the episode "Big Dreams". Cartoon-verse.


**Hello! Feels like it's been a while since I've updated and so I wrote this. It's based on the episode "Big Dreams" from the 80s series Alvin and the Chipmunks. This one-shot focuses on the 'poor timeline', in order words - when Alvin and Brittany are completely poor in the future. Hope you enjoy!**

**P.S. - I own nothing, except for this oneshot!**

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><p>He went hard against the cobbles, heaving in excessive amounts of air. It was a race to get home before dinner, and before they realised what he had done.<p>

The sun was glowing orange, sinking further into the high-rise buildings the young chipmunk frequently chanced upon. Buildings so dissimilar to his home. He often wondered if it was nice in those big buildings, for all the sunshine they received at night. Gusts of wind smacked the boy in the face, bringing cold tears to his eyes as he forced himself to keep running down the congested city streets.

Beads of sweat gathered on the back of his neck as he ducked and dodged the many pedestrians who would tut and exclaim in anger at the boy's frantic pace. Cars had to screech to a halt and blare their horn as he darted across the road, paying no heed to the camps of people on each side of it, waiting impatient as ever for their prompt to walk.

And finally, as though the sight would never appear, he found refuge. Home. Legs quivering with exertion, he carried himself to the front door which, evidently, had been repaired once again. Must have blown off again. It was shaping up to be a tough winter ahead; his father would have to reinforce the door and windows if they were to have even the slightest chance at warmth this year. Of course, he could never forget that fateful year the entire front wall collapsed. It took almost all of their savings to repair it again. He sighed at the sight of ragged curtains billowing in and out of the open windows. Opening the door with the utmost care, the chipmunk let himself in, and was greeted with a hoarse cough by the fireplace.

It was his father, trying to welcome him home, only to have his voice fail on him again. The flames were burning miserably, illuminating the sallow creases on his face. In an attempt to take away the grim expression on his parent's face, the boy gave a weak smile, and then slinked into the kitchen.

If the smell was anything to go by, it was stew again. It was all they could afford - cheap and easy to cook, as his mother would always chide. Not like they had a choice. It was either that or beans. Said woman was hunched over a bubbling pot on the stove, mumbling something to herself. Maybe she was singing again, or maybe she was cursing the day his father was born. Either way, it was a welcome distraction. Silently, the chipmunk unveiled four buns from the inside of his jacket. He hoped they hadn't perished on his way home - he made every effort to ensure they'd be safe as he ran. Perhaps with these, they could have something a little different for dinner one night. The boy's stomach groaned. He couldn't remember the last time they had a proper meal. For quite some time, they had become reliant on the produce from Uncle Theodore's farm. He could see that his parents' pride made this situation difficult, but what else were they do? They couldn't starve to death. But what does he know? He's just a kid.

As quick as he could, he smuggled the buns into the kitchen cupboard, settling them next to the carrots he had swiped the other day. His collection was ever-expanding; he wondered if his mother knew about his deeds. If she did, then she said nothing of it.

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat caught the chipmunk's attention, and he swiftly stood upright, eyes wide. Staring at him accusingly was his twin brother. His brow was furrowed, and his arms were crossed. Sneaking a quick glance at their mother to make sure they were clear, the twin approached his guilty brother.

"What are you doing?" He hissed, pointing at the cupboard. "Do you _want _to get into trouble?"

"I don't have a choice! I'm just doing my bit, that's all."

"You realise that if you're caught, you'll go to jail. That's what happens to bad people, Al. They go to jail! Don't you ever listen to Uncle Simon?"

"Well everything up until now has been fine, so why don't you keep your big mouth shu-"

"Boys!" Their mother interrupted, bringing the heavy pot to the kitchen table. Luckily, a makeshift leg had been placed underneath, and so both were relieved of their duties. "Dinner's ready."

Still glaring at his brother, the more responsible of the two piped up.

"What is it tonight, Mom?"

"Turnip stew," she replied, a feeble smile on her face. Her strawberry-blond bangs were sticking to her forehead, the woman physically exhausted after another day's work. "Your favourite."

Not willing to argue, the twins obliged and took a seat at the table. It didn't feel as cold in the kitchen as it did in the other rooms. It was as though that fireplace was burning for a lost cause. As both watched their mother leave to fetch their father, the 'thief' was cornered once again.

"Mom wouldn't like what you're doing."

"Well Mom doesn't know, does she?" Al responded, clenching a fist. Sighing, he gazed down into his empty bowl. "I just... wish things were a little better for us, you know?"

Despite his lack of education, he wasn't stupid. He knew what kind of situation they were in. Perhaps when he was younger it wasn't as apparent, but seeing those flashy buildings every day... They were poor. But naturally, their mother would vehemently deny this if it was ever to be brought up. Of course they weren't - there were families in much worse conditions than their own. Why, Uncle Theodore had to sell his only mode of transport one year just to get by. They weren't poor. And that very word would continue to be spat out like poison from their temperamental mother's mouth.

"But things _are _fine. We've got shelter, we get a meal a day, and we've got each other's company. Isn't that enough?" He had to laugh. How can his brother sit there and think everything's fine? Does he not see the way their father gazes wistfully into the fire, or the way their mother weeps at night when she assumes everyone is asleep? Does he mean to say he sees those lucky kids on the street with their fancy gadgets and clothes, and _doesn't _want it? No. Al knows exactly what his brother is thinking, and right now, he's lying. It's all part of that connection twins share. Oh, what was it called again? Telekin-something. He'd heard about it when Uncle Simon came to visit one time.

The moment was interrupted when he saw his father hobbling into the kitchen, leaning all of his weight precariously onto the doorframe. Sighing, he eased himself into a chair and wrapped his hands around the bowl, waiting for his wife to serve dinner.

"How was your day?" Alvin asked, looking at his sons.

"Same old."

"Yeah."

Alvin shook his head despairingly at the twins. They always gave the same response. He was beginning to forget what the 'same old' was at this rate.

"Billy said that he's going to get free guitar lessons at school now because the teachers think he's really good," Alvin Jr. said, a wistful tone to his voice. "I wish _I _could learn how to play guitar."

"There's no such thing as a free lunch," Brittany interjected, filling their bowls with stew.

"What does that even mean?" Al pondered aloud, swirling the contents of his bowl.

"Never mind," their mother said, taking a glimpse at their father. "Eat up before it gets cold."

"Hey, didn't Dad play the guitar when he was younger?" Alvin Jr. asked, making the chipmunk in question hesitate, his spoon dangling in front of his open mouth.

"What did I just say?" The redhead warned the pair, irritation from being tired rising slightly. After that, the family ate in a solemn silence.

That night, when the boys had been ushered to bed and their parents had gone to bed as well, Al decided to take this opportunity to sneak out of bed and retrieve a certain item. Holding his breath - hoping he wouldn't wake his brother up who was bundled up in blankets - he tiptoed into the front room, where a strong breeze enveloped him. The fire had long since been extinguished, its ashy remains laying there. Moonlight was his only hope, as he made his way towards the rickety shelving unit.

Straining, he reached up for the item on the very top shelf. He grimaced as the muscles in his arm started to tighten, but eventually the item fell to the floor with a thud. Listening out for anyone that might have woken up, and realising he was still okay, he picked up the item and blew the dust off the cover. It was a photo album, presumably from his parents' childhood. He'd always known the item was there; he asked one time. But it was always out of reach. For some reason unknown to him, they weren't allowed to touch it. The reason always given was that it was a valuable and they couldn't risk it being damaged. Whatever that meant.

Come to think of it, their parents never really discussed their childhood much. The most they knew was that they used to be musicians. Then somehow, that fell through, and now they live on leftovers and handouts. An odd transition, but one he wasn't prepared to question. After all, he was born into this situation.

But maybe...

The moon shone through the window, illuminating a photograph of his parents on a lit stage, smiling brightly. They were his age, and they were with his Aunts and Uncles. Al couldn't help but stare at their happy faces. How can people change so much? How can someone go from being that happy, to suddenly glowering at the fireplace every night? He noticed the way both were holding microphones. Both he and his brother had known that their mother could sing - she sang a lullaby for them every night, but their father? His voice leads to the assumption that he was incapable, and yet... here he is, on stage, singing with everyone else. Al's heart sank. It isn't like that anymore, and he can tell it makes his parents unhappy.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind. His parents used to be famous. He could assume that this brought them wealth, and happiness. Oh, he would give anything to see them smile like they are in the picture. If _they _were musically gifted, then perhaps _he_ was too...

Smiling impishly, the chipmunk headed back to bed. He was going to need his sleep, for what he was planning.

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><p>"Why are we doing this again?" Alvin Jr. set down a cap on the ground.<p>

"No questions. Just sing!" Al clicked his fingers and started to hum a melody. He successfully managed to persuade his twin to join him in what could only be described as an impromptu concert. The pair were singing their hearts out, making eye-contact with anyone that passed by them, desperately hoping that the cap would soon be filled with money. Well, at least that was Al's intention. They didn't know many songs; they could only sing the lullabies their mother had sung.

It wasn't going as badly as they thought - they discovered they could sing, but how well they could sing was another question altogether. The clouds were starting to gather in the sky; it was a day without sunshine, and the threat of rain loomed over the city. The chilly air was making it increasingly harder for the boys to stay in tune, as they wrapped their scarves tighter around their necks. Not many people were out today, and for all that heard them, not very many were in a giving mood.

After the twins had finished another song, it was Alvin Jr. that noticed the darkening skies.

"We should probably get home. Mom and Dad will worry about us if we stay out too late."

"No!" The other retorted. "We've still got time!"

"Al..." The chipmunk looked wearily at his frantic brother. His eyes were wide, and swimming in worry. Pitifully, he looked at the cap, not seeing very much in it. Nothing was said between them - nothing needed to be said. Alvin Jr. simply picked up their meagre earnings, seeing as his brother was standing in numb shock, and gestured for them to walk home. Al looked on, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Flecks of rain started to dot his cheeks and hair. He didn't want this. Not one bit. Frowning, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed suit.

That was when the rain started to pour.

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><p>Brittany was in the middle of closing the curtains when the boys came in. She barely had a chance to say hello before Al Jr. was running across the room and slamming his bedroom door shut. Raising an eyebrow, she looked at Alvin Jr. who said nothing. Instead, he held out a scruffy cap. The chipette took it, and silently gasped at its contents. A couple of coins lay inside, gleaming as brightly as a couple of old dirty coins could. Smiling sadly, she placed a hand on her son's shoulder then headed for their bedroom.<p>

He was lying on the bed, body wracked with sobs. He heard his mother come in however and sniffed loudly, using his sleeve to wipe his face. Brittany sighed sympathetically and sat on the bed, turning Al's face so that she could look into his puffy eyes.

"What's wrong?" She whispered, using her thumb to wipe at the tears on his cheeks.

"I wasn't doing anything bad, I swear! I just- I just wanted to help out, that's all." He pouted.

"You know you don't have to do that. I'd rather you didn't, because I know what you've been doing. Don't think because I hadn't said anything, I didn't notice. I've been turning a blind eye. Al, you _know _stealing isn't the answer."

"B-but I wasn't stealing today! I changed my ways. I-I wanted to sing, just like you guys did, and earn money to make you happy again." He inhaled shakily, on the verge of tears. His voice was wobbly."B-but it wasn't enough. It's never enough."

The chipette was taken aback. "What makes you think that?"

"All I want is to make things better for everyone. I know that singing and making money made you and Dad happy. I can't stand seeing you this miserable. Everywhere I go I see people getting everything they want, and they're always happy. L-like in those buildings across the street - the tall ones. I want what _they _have."

"Oh, Al..." His mother didn't know what to say. She couldn't imagine seeing her children upset like this.

"But want can turn into greed, and then what happens?" A voice came from the doorway. It was Alvin. Alvin Jr. came in as well and sat next to his brother. "Some people lose everything because of greed."

"B-but... in those old photos, you and Mom looked so happy."

"That was back then," Brittany said, a distant look on her face as she recalled those years. She looked at the twins, and returned to the present. "Things changed since then. When you get older, your priorities change. It's not about money and material things anymore. At least, not for me."

The chipette looked up at her husband, wondering if he felt the same.

"The most important thing is family," he said, smiling at the three. His counterpart exhaled, relief washing over her features. "You, your brother, and your Mom. As long as you're safe and well, then I'm happy."

The chipmunk looked at his boys, feeling empathetic. He knew that one misdeed in the past brought them here, and he also knew how it felt to want. Of course, he still dreams of the day they can move out of this place and live a more comfortable life, but over time he and Brittany have had to learn how to get by and live on what they already have. It wasn't worth it being constantly upset over the losses. He should be happy with what's already there, and will always be there - a loving family. Those two are in every way, shape, and form, his sons. And sometimes they're capable of teaching him a lesson or two.

"I appreciate the kind gesture," Brittany said, gesturing towards the cap of coins. "And I'm touched that you would try to do something like that. And you're right. Sometimes we do want better things for ourselves. Believing in a brighter tomorrow is what gets so many people through the night."

"But family is what gets more people through?" Alvin Jr. asked.

"Exactly," Alvin responded. "We might not have what we want, but we've got what we need."

"Love," Al Jr. said, perking up a little.

"Yes." Brittany tried not to weep as she bundled the twins into her arms, embracing them as the rain continued to fall heavy on the ground outside.

As they slept that night, despite the cold air that should have had them shivering restlessly, their hearts were warmed by love. And knowing they had that love is what got them through the night.

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><p><strong>Gaaah slightly cheesy ending I'm sorry! I just wanted to imagine what it would have been like on a daily basis for them in this scenario. I tried to include much reference to the show as possible, but as the episode is extremely hard to locate nowadays, I couldn't rewatch it for reference and accuracy. Nonetheless, I hope you liked it. I've never written about the twins before so it was quite interesting! <strong>

**If I may, I'd like to advertise The Chipmunks and Chipettes Forum. It's an incredible place for fans of the show and movies where you can discuss almost anything relating to the Chipmunks. It even has a General Chat section if you just want to chat about random things. Two things you should note however before signing up - you cannot sign up with a proxy server, and you must read the rules very carefully before joining. If you're interested, please don't hesitate to join! It's a wonderful forum!**

**Peace, love, and COOKIES! ~ MissSteph22 x :)**


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